Protectobot: Sniffles
by zomgitsalaura
Summary: Groove and Streetwise were the first of the Protectobots to contract a virus. The rest of the team does not like this. This place really needs a "fluff" category :/ chapter 2, poor 'Aid :
1. Chapter 1

_So, Playswithworms wanted me to write a continuation to the "Sniffles" prompt she gave me. Hopefully this is what she was looking for._

_This story is set in Playswithworms delightful little 'verse; you must go read her stories *does jedi hand wave*_

_I'm going to bed now. Laura is tired and needs sleeeeeep :3_

_Remember, reviews and feedback are love. I don't write often and they prod me into doing more._

_Till next time,_

_Lots of love,_

_Laura_

* * *

**Groove, Streetwise – sniffles**

Groove and Streetwise felt awful; luckily no-one else on their team had contracted the virus that had decided to play merry hell with their systems. Currently quarantined in the med bay, drugged up to the optics and connected to external cooling devices, they both decided that they were lucky that _they_ were the ones who had contracted the virus. Especially considering how fragile 'Aids systems still were.

Ratchet had assured them that, as long as they didn't break quarantine, none of the rest of their team would contract the virus. This assurance was then continued by Wheeljack, when he launched into a very excited explanation about how, once the virus was gone, their new found immunity would be transferred to the rest of the gestalt next time they formed Defensor. They were vaguely worried when he walked off muttering something about "infecting one of the Aerialbots" and "making sure the rest got the immunity" though.

For the moment, however, they would just have to deal with aching joints, overheated systems and the crippling boredom of the isolation room while their three, worried gestalt mates hovered (one of them literally sometimes) in the hall outside the bay.

* * *

Hot Spot sat up from his current position sprawled across the large couch in the Protectobot common room. Still slightly dazed and confused from recharge he reached out for his team mates. Jerking fully awake when he found himself alone, the large gestalt commander rolled himself to his feet and made his way towards the soft sounds coming from First Aids room.

Rubbing his optic with one hand, the other propped on the doorframe, Hot Spot released an exasperated sigh. "'Aid, you need to recharge." He said, striding across the room and seating himself on the unused berth.

Each of the Protectobots had a room, and berth, of their own in the hangar. Preferring to sleep together in a pile in the common room though, each room had become nothing more than a well furnished storage closet.

First Aids berth, at the moment, was home to a rather large collection of medical data pads (each of them currently on loan from a rather overworked Ratchet) and, curled in the corner against the wall with his legs tucked up to his chest, First Aid himself.

Since the senior medic didn't want to risk 'Aid getting infected like his brothers, worried about what the virus could do to the little mechs still recovering systems, First Aid had been taken off duty in the med bay until further notice.

The data pads had been provided in the hope that continuing his studies would distract the protectobot from his brother's absence. Hot Spot, however, was worried that 'Aid was beginning to retreat into his room for hours at a time, often forsaking recharge and energon to pour over the medical texts.

Reaching out, Hot Spot plucked 'Aids latest pad out of his hands, drawing a faint whimpered protest from the tightly curled bot. Unfurling himself from his perch, First Aid rolled onto his hands and knees and attempted to re-snatch the retreating Data pad with one outstretched hand.

Leaning forward out of 'Aids reach Hot Spot saved the page number, switched off the pad, and placed it on the neatly organised desk. Reaching back around and grabbing hold of the precariously balanced ambulance, Hot Spot lifted him off the berth, with little more than a few whispered protests and squirming, and made his way back to the main room.

"You can have it back after you've had a decent amount of recharge." He lightly scolded, smiling to himself at First Aids resigned huff and quiet hum of assent.

Catching hold of the medic's hands in one of his own and tucking them against his chest, the Protectobot commander shifted and made himself comfortable on the large couch once again.

"Plus, what would Ratchet say if you studied yourself into stasis, huh?"

"I miss Groove and Streets." 'Aid sighed quietly, wiggling upwards slightly from where he curled against Hot Spots chest and nestled his head on his larger brother's neck. "When's Blades going to come back?"

Lifting his hand and petting the upset medics red helm, Hot Spot shifted slightly in place and checked his chronometer.

"He'll be back soon." He answered, turning his head towards the door and hoping that the aforementioned helo' would walk through. "He said he was going to go check in with Wheeljack. Go back into recharge. I promise I'll wake you up when he gets back."

* * *

When Blades finally returned Hot Spot had yet to fall back into recharge, worried that First Aid would once again sneak off to read his data pads. Lifting his head from where it had been propped against the armrest, Hot Spot was surprised when, instead of just the previously absent helicopter, Wheeljack entered the room.

When Blades finally reached the couch, sighing loudly and flopping himself dramatically over the back rest, Hot Spot lightly tapped First Aid's lower back plating. "Hey, wake up. Blades back and he brought Wheeljack." He said, smiling as 'Aid on lined his optics beneath the visor and pushed himself upright and further down Hot Spots body, finally stopping when he was sitting across the bigger bots lower legs.

"Blades?" he said quietly, rubbing his left optic beneath the visor as he reached around and pulled the exhausted helo down on top of him. "Why'd you take so long?" floated a muffled question from somewhere around Blades' mid section.

"He was too busy hovering around near the ceiling outside the med bay." Came Wheeljacks chuckled response from over near the doorway.

Leaning his arm across the back of the couch so he could properly see the engineer, a difficult task given that his lower extremities were currently being used as a berth for two of his sleepy team mates, Hot Spot cocked his head to the side and grinned cheekily. "So, have you managed to catch yourself a jet to infect yet?"

"No." Responded the explosive engineer, shoulders and wings slumping in defeat, "I don't know how they've been able to avoid me for so long. It's almost as if they were tipped off as to why I was looking for them."

"It wouldn't surprise me if they were." Hot Spot chuckled. "Any news on Streets and Groove yet?"

Perking up instantly and striding across the room to pat the Protectobots arm fondly. "Yep, that's actually the reason I came down here." He answered, vocal indicators flashing happily. "Ratchet said the last of the virus should be gone by morning."

"So they won't be contagious anymore?" First Aid chirped from underneath Blades, wiggling himself upwards until he could peer at Wheeljack from behind the helo's rotors. "Can they come home?"

"Yes 'Aid." Wheeljack replied, turning on his heel and waving to the three bots as he made his way towards the door. "Groove and Streetwise can come home tomorrow."


	2. Chapter 2

_(First Aid - Knitting)_

_Playswithworms prompted me for my silly prompt responses fic. The prompt evolved and ended up as a new chapter for this fic instead._

_On a similar note, this is officially the longest, single fic I have ever written *feels accomplished*_

_Comments and reviews are love :3_

* * *

"'Aid" came the soft call, echoing quietly both in his audio receptors and across the bond. "'Aid, you need to get up. Your shift starts soon."

Optics coming online dimly beneath the still unlit visor, First Aid moaned quietly and attempted to bury himself further into the warmth provided by the now awake Blades frame.

Rolling over until he was lying on his back, Blades hooked his arms around First Aids abdomen and sat himself up, cradling his smaller teammate against his chest and shaking him gently.

The movement only had First Aids optics flickering once again as he tucked his hands more securely underneath his chin and pressed his face into the side of Blades neck.

Face taking on a grim expression as the smaller medic fell back into recharge, Hot Spot reached out and laid one of his large hands on the top of First Aids helm. "Hey Blades," he started, moving his hand down until it was resting on First Aids un-armoured neck. "Does he feel colder than usual to you?"

By this time both Groove and Streetwise, dislodged from their usual perch on Hot Spots legs, had also woken up and crowded around to the other side of the now worried helicopter.

Frowning, Blades moved one of his hands from where it had absently been petting 'Aids back and placed it gently on the exposed neck cables branching from beneath the back of the medic's helm.

"Yeah, he's heaps colder. We should probably call Ratchet."

Reaching out in order to feel for himself, Groove suddenly stoped and jerked his arm backwards as if he had been burned. "We didn't give him our virus did we? I mean, Ratchet was really worried about him catching it and wouldn't even let you visit." He babbled, twisting his head sharply until he was looking Hot Spot squarely in the optics, panic unfurling swiftly from both his and Streetwises presences in the gestalt bond.

"No, Wheeljack already said you transferred the resistance." Hot Spot replied, sending a quick data-burst to Ratchet and the aforementioned engineer as he scooped the panicking Groove and Streetwise into a loose hug. "They checked us and everything. 'Aid'll be okay, Ratchet can fix it. It's not your fault."

Less than a breem later, both Ratchet and Wheeljack burst through the common room door, swiftly converging on the now visibly shivering medi-bot.

"Hey little guy," Wheeljack whispered, helping Ratchet gently lever Blades, still tightly clutching First Aid, to his feet and herding him in the direction of the med bay. "Come on, let's get you all down to medical and warmed up properly."

Trailing along behind them, Hot Spot, Streetwise and Groove kept trying to steal glances at the scanner held tightly in Ratchets hand. Not being able to make heads or tails of it without First Aids usual eager explanations though, Hot Spot settled for trying to keep the rest of his gestalt counterparts relatively calm, though the unnaturally quiet corner of the bond currently occupied by 'Aid was not helping matters in the least.

* * *

Several hours, and quite a few scans, later, Ratchet flopped heavily into the chair behind his desk, white arms crossing on its surface as he rested his helm on top. Following his friend through the door and depositing himself equally carelessly into the opposite chair, slumping down and covering his optics with one hand, Wheeljack vented a long sigh, mist curling from beneath his blast mask due to the cold.

"Primus, these kids are going to be the death of me." He croaked, letting his arm fall back onto the arm of the chair. "I was worried he'd caught Streets and Grooves virus."

Lifting his head from where it was pillowed on his forearms, Ratchet looked out the door of his office at the now peacefully recharging First Aid, comfortable cocooned under several layers of insulating fabric.

"We were lucky it wasn't." the medic replied, venting a sigh of his own and watching as the cloud of vapour disappeared into the chilly atmosphere. "Thermostat programming glitches are something I can deal with. You're just lucky it never got this cold on the planet we brought them online on."

Optics still offline and head tipped back into the cushion of the seat Wheeljack merely hummed his agreement, vocal indicators lighting momentarily before shutting off once again. "There's also the possibility that he developed this after they got here." He added after a few moments, mentally cringing as he remembered the incident that had almost taken First Aids life.

"That shot managed to frag up quite a bit of his surface programming, it's not too far a stretch to think it may have done some deeper damage too."

"Well, you've got me on that one." Ratchet replied, opening his desk drawer, retrieving two cubes of mid grade energon and handing one of them to the exhausted engineer.

Smiling to himself as the engineer took the cube and gave it a rather forlorn expression; Ratchet reached into his subspace and retrieved a small packet of mercury additive vials.

"Here," he said teasingly as he handed the silver liquid over. "I'll never understand how you can enjoy your energon so sickeningly sweet." He continued, watching as Wheeljack tipped the entire contents of three of the small vials into the pink, glowing fuel before starting to drink.

"Not that I'm complaining or anything." He quickly added, "Usually I have to force mechs to take the stuff, it's probably why your self repair systems are so damn efficient. Sure makes it easier for me to fix you whenever you blow yourself halfway to the pit though."

Humming happily as he finished off the last of his ration, Wheeljack pulled back his arm and tossed the empty cube in the general direction of Ratchets waste basket, grinning tiredly as it bounced off the wall and inside his intended target without missing.

"I'm starting to think 'Aid should just have a berth permanently reserved in the med bay. Poor thing's been in and out of here more than the twins in the last couple of weeks."

Chuckling, Ratchet merely shook his head in amusement. "If we did he'd probably take it as an invitation to never leave. We have enough trouble trying to get him out of here at the end of his shifts as it is."

"True, true." Wheeljack replied, face suddenly shifting into a more serious expression as he followed the medics gaze out into the main bay.

"So, what are we going to do about 'Aid?" he said, turning back around so he was once again facing the medic's desk.

"Well, the patch I've given him should sort out the thermostat programming over the next few days but we're going to have to get Percy to come in to check out the rest of his base level stuff." Ratchet replied, huffing in agitation as his own thrown cube bounced off the rim of the basket and landed with a dull "thud" on the floor.

"In all honesty, we just don't know how a lot of gestalt base coding works."

* * *

Peering cautiously around the doorframe of the suspiciously empty med bay, Fireflight sighed and made his way over to the berth nearest the door.

He was hoping that First Aid was on shift at the moment, mainly because Ratchet was going to yell at him for getting hurt over something so stupid, again. Fingers running over the snapped off piece of wing panelling held gingerly in his lap, legs swinging back and forth over the edge of the berth, he leaned backwards and scanned the med bay once again.

Finally noticing the large pile of blankets on the corner berth, Fireflight jumped lightly off his perch, leaving his broken panelling behind, and made his way over to investigate.

Making his way around the bank of monitors set off to the side, the distracted jet failed to notice the recharging pile of Protectobots situated at the base of the berth. That is, until he promptly tripped over Hot Spots long legs and his helm made loud contact with the floor.

Pushing himself onto his knees and jumping slightly when he felt a small hand make contact with his shoulder, Fireflight groaned and turned his head until he came face to face with a concerned looking Streetwise.

"Are you okay 'Flight?" he asked sleepily, watching intently as the jet twisted around till he was seated properly on the ground.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm used to falling on my aft would you believe." Fireflight answered cheerily, frowning when he spotted the rest of the Protectobots still mostly in recharge on the floor. "Why are you guys in here though?" he asked, dusting his hands off and levering himself to his feet with Streetwise's help.

Letting go of Fireflight's hands, Streetwise moved over to the curious pile of blankets sitting on the beth near the wall, gently pulling one end up and revealing the recharging form of First Aid underneath before tucking them back down. "Ratchet said his thermostat went all wacky because of the cold. Ratchet said he'd be ok in a little while though. Why are you in here?"

"Oh, I had some water sitting under one of the plates on my wing." Fireflight replied, gesturing towards the broken panel still lying on the berth near the door. "It froze when I went outside and popped the panel right off." He added sheepishly, self consciously flicking his wings backwards and forwards as he talked.

Perking up slightly Streetwise smiled as his optics became dim and distant in memory. "The water expanded." He exclaimed, bringing his hands together then moving them apart quickly to illustrate. "Perceptor taught us about that."

"Yeah," Fireflight answered, remembering his own lessons from the excitable scientist. "us too. Wish I'd remembered that before I went outside though. Do you know when Ratchet is going to get back?"

"Oh yeah, I think he went off to visit Perceptor about something to do with coding." Streetwise answered, vaguely recalling the medics conversation, overheard when he was half in recharge.

Both bots jumping at the sound of someone clearing their vocaliser near the door, Fireflight and Streetwise spun on their heels and finally noticed the aforementioned medic standing near one of the berths, Fireflight's broken panelling in hand.

Fireflight, to his credit, merely squeaked and ducked his head sheepishly. "Hi Ratchet." He said, waving his arm at the annoyed looking ambulance. "It wasn't my fault this time."

Venting in exasperation, Ratchet pointed at one of the vacant berths across the med bay from the recharging Protectobots and headed towards one of the spare-parts storage cupboards lining the wall.

Scrambling to comply with the medics silent order, Fireflight shot Streetwise a pleading look and deposited himself on the indicated berth, wincing slightly as Ratchet came over and swiftly turned off the pain receptors lining the iced over wing.

"Don't you worry about First Aid." Ratchet said quietly, melting the ice with a low powered welder and applying the new panel, flicking Fireflight on the audio receptor when he was done. "He'll be fine. You, on the other hand, have a patrol that you need to finish."

Jumping off the berth and throwing a quick "thankyou" over his shoulder, Fireflight waved at the wide opticed, slightly dumbstruck Streetwise as he fled the med bay.

Once the door was closed Streetwise turned to face Ratchet, who he found was currently inspecting the broken panel. Tutting, the medic inspected the buckled underside and flicked off a segment of flaking paint before tossing it off to the side so he could fix it later.

"Ratchet?" Streetwise asked, pointing in the direction the red and white jet had just fled. "Why do you have a cupboard full of pre-made parts for Fireflight?"

* * *

It seems that the old saying was true; doctors really did make the worst patients. Ratchet finally understood Wheeljacks angry grumbling from the last time the red and white medic had been injured when, for the fourth time that morning, he had to force First Aid away from where he was quietly cleaning and back underneath the thermal blankets on his berth.

Perhaps it would have been easier if the rest of 'Aids team had been able to stay instead of leaving for their own various duties. At least they would have been able to keep the quiet spoken 'bot from getting bored and trying to work.

Drastic measures needed to be taken to keep him occupied AND on the berth where he was supposed to be staying.

After the fourth mech with extra back kibble came through the door with problems related to the abnormally cold weather, Ratchet finally had his answer.

* * *

Sideswipe finally felt he understood what Prowl went through whenever his processor crashed.

Crossing the rec-room and stopping behind Bluestreak's chair he reached out and tugged on the fluffy covering adorning the grey bots wings, earning himself a door twitch and an indignant squawk.

"Hey Blue', what're those things for?" he asked, dumping himself in the chair opposite and pointing at the flustered bots still twitching wings.

"oh, ahh. Ratchet gave them to me because this cold weather keeps icing up the capillaries on the surface of my sensor panels. I like them; they're actually kind of comfy, even if the sensory data keeps coming through a bit muffled."

"Ratchet gave them to you?" Sideswipe interrupted, optical ridges arching in surprise. "Where did he get something like THAT from?"

Sadly, Sideswipe wasn't able to hear Bluestreak's answer because Prowl chose that exact moment to enter the rec room. Sporting his own set of fluffy wing-warmers and trailed by a very amused looking jazz.

Sideswipe could have sworn, however, that he heard Prowl laughing from over near the energon dispenser when the red bots logic chips finally gave up and he slipped sideways out of his chair onto the floor.

* * *

Perched gingerly on the edge of First Aids berth, optics wide and curious as the followed the movement of the two sticks held in the medic's hands, Groove shifted one of the thermal blankets over so he could get closer.

Sending a questioning pulse through their bond, and smiling when he felt First Aids own amusement, Groove settled himself tiredly over his brothers back so he could get a better view.

"Ratchet showed me how to do this." First Aid answered verbally several minutes later, tying off a piece of thread and tossing the finished product into the pile sitting next to him. "He said it would help with my hand stiffness and dexterity. Plus, with the cold spell we're having at the moment, I can give these to bots that need it."

"You so have to show me how to do this… thing… later." Groove said, inspecting one of the fuzzy tube things on the top of First Aids little pile. "I bet Blades could use some of these for his rotors."

"Ratchet said it was called 'knitting'. I think it's a weird name." First Aid giggled softly, tutting as he dropped a stitch and had to go back and start the row again. "But yeah, I'm making these ones for Blades. He looked cold when he came by to visit before."

Humming happily as he slid sideways and repositioned himself against First Aids side, Groove amused himself by playing with one of the unused balls of thread. "So, you said Ratchets going to let you come home tomorrow, yeah?" he asked hopefully, shrieking in amusement as First Aid suddenly threw one of the thermal blankets over his head and tackled him sideways onto the berth.

"Yeah." First Aid answered, settling himself half over his squirming brother's midsection. Smiling cheekily at Groove when he finally managed to worm his way out from under the shiny cloth, "but I think I'm going to need to make us a bigger blanket for when I do."


End file.
